Free The Angels
by monkeygirl77
Summary: In which, there is no Heaven and Hell, as far as people are aware of. Angels are all on earth, and kept as pets among Humanity. Strict guidelines and Laws keep them in check. Wings, and the number of which, are signs of wealth among human owners. Known around town as an Angel Whisperer, Chuck has had many visits from these winged creatures and their varying types of owners.


**An AU I thought of after searching through and looking at a blog I found on Tumblr, its absolutely amazing and she does great art!**

 **In which, there is no Heaven and Hell, as far as people are aware of. Angels are all on earth, and kept as pets among Humanity. Strict guidelines and Laws keep them in check. Wings, and the number of which, are signs of wealth among human owners.**

 **Chuck Shurley, a part time best selling author unwittingly gets sucked into the culture of pet angels when he discovers he can** _ **understand**_ **them. Known around town as an Angel Whisperer, Chuck has had many visits from these winged creatures and their varying types of owners. It never really affects him personally until he comes to meet an abused little angel with three wings and a strict Army General.**

 **That's when his life changes.**

 **...**

Chuck groaned to himself as the knocking at his front door interrupted his writing time. He had put a sign out on the door saying that he was closed for the day with anything involving angels, it was something that he was still trying to figure out as to why he was so good when it came to controlling the unruly angels bought his way, and went from merely being a successful writer to being an angel whisperer and a part time successful writer.

It was way passed closing time anyway if he had been open for regular hours.

Pulling the robe over his left shoulder, Chuck knelt down to peer outside the window next to his front door hoping to catch a glimpse of who ever it was knocking at his door this time of night.

In the next moment he's rushing to open the multitude of locks on his front door and welcoming the decorated military general into his house, and the small child standing in the man's shadow behind him.

"Come in, come in, can I get you anything...Sir?"

The General comes to a halt in the middle of his foyer, back ramrod straight, a certain air demanding respect flowing about him. His small follower obediently at his heel, face downcast, eyes directed at the floor.

"No. I am in need of your assistance."

Chuck looked between the two strange persons in his home, not sure how he was meant to respond.

"Umm...What?...How can I be of assistance?"

The angel, now that he has spotted the wings, lets out a small yelp as he was roughly yanked forward. It only seems to infuriate the man that he made any noise at all and Chuck's only able to stand there and watch as he doesn't think twice about backhanding the small child across the face hard enough to send him sprawling.

"It openly disrespects me, talks out of place, does not do as its ordered. I do not know what else to do and have been told you are the best."

Not even Chuck can stop himself from flinching at the rapidly forming bruise taking over the boy's cheek. It doesn't take a genius to see that the angel child wants to cry at the obvious sting in his face, but his fearful eyes keep shooting back to the man who had brought him.

"I have tried everything; obedience training, lessons, everything. I have reached the end of my patience."

The boy cowered away from the attentions directed at him, and Chuck nods as he kneels down in front of the quivering little boy. Just as it always works out, he turns his attention solely to the writer in front of him.

"Um...hi."

He squeaks out in the language all angels speak in, a series of chirps. A shadow looms over him, and Chuck looks up as the man comes to stand over the fallen angel, not helping in the slightest.

"Use the words you've been taught, Michael."

"So his name is Michael?"

The General stood back, nodding stiffly. Chuck turned to look back at the little boy, Michael, and sighed. He had promised he'd never do this when he started to see these troubled angels and their owners, but this man obviously didn't want the kid, and honestly wasn't comfortable sending Michael back with this man.

Michael turned to look at him at hearing his name being spoken by the nice man. He didn't strike him when he made noises and didn't yell when he spoke, Chuck smiled softly trying to come off as being as nonthreatening as he could.

"Hi Michael, my names Chuck."

"…...h...i..."

His little voice was so soft, so young, no child should ever sound so frightened.

"I can take him."

"Excuse me?"

Chuck stood back up, leaving little Michael on the floor, and turned to face the General. While he put a front of offense forward he could tell that it was a tempting offer.

"You clearly don't want him, why keep him if you hate him so much, I'll take him free of charge."

The General snarled at the boy who cowered closer to Chuck's legs, "I never wanted the brat, no charge?"

"Absolutely free. Just sign the papers when they get to you."

Even his smile was frightening. He's handed a bag and he makes a face as he looks inside at the pet products. There's also a chain meant to keep him locked in the backyard. Before another word can be spoken on the matter, the General is on the other side of the room already stepping out the door.

Michael watches him fo completely frozen to the spot.

There's a call over the respectable man's shoulder, "He's best kept locked outdoors."

Rain pelted into his house as his front door was thrown open. Without so much as a word more on the matter he's gone. Michael's silent as ever, staring terrified at the front door now that its closed and his old owner has clearly left him.

He knows what happens now.

Chuck shakes his head when he pulls the loop around for the chain, "I'm not going chain you up out there in this weather, you'll get yourself sick!"

His eyes go wide at that.

The writer sets the bag of 'tools' down on the side table, he's never had to care for someone so small before but that's sure as hell not how you do it.

"Have you...You need a bath kiddo."

Its true. The kid has clearly been neglected. Now, Chuck has never had to deal with that sort of thing but he can google it later. Michael eyeballs the hand being held out to him, flinching so minutely that he barely sees it, he's used to being hit when one holds a hand out at him.

"I'm not going to hit you, don't worry, come on."

There's that affect he's always had on the angels. Michael tentatively reaches a hand out to take the man's. His large fingers fold over his teeny ones, and he smiles hesitantly when he gets nothing bad in return.

His book forgotten for the moment, he leads the little guy up the stairs to his bathroom.

"What do you like to eat?"

There's a chirp.

"Of course I mean food? What else wou—you know what—I don't want to know. Yes you can eat food. Judging by your response though we'll start off with something easier for your stomach to handle, chicken noodle soup?"

Bathtub full of warm water, he helps Michael strip from the rags he's wearing and gasps at the bruises that paint his skin. The boy doesn't seem bothered by it and Chuck doesn't know what disgusts him more about this discovery.

Gently guiding him into the bath, Michael takes the offered bar of soap. It takes only a few moments for him to clean himself up, Chuck hands him a towel and Michael wraps himself up in it and smiles at the soft fabric that rubs against his face.

Its heart breaking, really.

"I don't have any clothes for any little guys such as yourself, but you can wear one of my shirts if you want."

He wasn't expecting anything as a response to his suggestion, but it would have been nice. Michael followed behind him as he made his way from the bathroom and it was something that would have to be worked on because it just feels all sorts of wrong.

There something about someone who is way under half your size standing behind you like some...some pet...Chuck searched through his closet for something to give the little guy as he couldn't very well have him running around naked.

Honestly, why he had said he'd take the kid was beyond him, Chuck had no experience raising kids, he'd never been married, never had any real long term relationships, and here he was taking in a boy that could be no older than seven.

Pulling an old t-shirt out from under a pile that he'd deemed as Good Will worthy, Chuck turns in step holding the shirt up for him to see.

"This'll work for now, won't it?"

Still, Michael made no noise, it was almost unsettling—as if he was frightened to make any sort of noise at all—well that was the end of that.

"Do you want to wear it?"

They had much to work on if they were going to make this work, but it would come around. Michael looked between him and the shirt with silent wide eyes, it was clear he did indeed want to wear it but Chuck wasn't going to be so soft and hand it over without some sort of interaction.

"It's okay to tell me what you want, I promise not to be mad."

A small hand poked out from the warmth of the towel, shaking as if not quite sure of himself yet, and pulled at the shirt.

Chuck smiled at him, it was enough that the boy even smiled back, it was enough for him at the moment. Michael whined as he made to pull it over his shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

And here he was beginning to think that all the progress they had been making was just about to come crumbling down. Concern took over his features and he knelt to be more so on his level. Michael whined again, reaching back towards where his wings would be, and it was only in that moment that the wings ever became present in Chuck's thoughts.

"Is it your wings? Do they hurt?"

The boy nodded, and though he clearly did not want his wings to be bothered, tugged on the shirt again.

Chuck frowned, "Can I see?"

Michael nodded, and allowed himself to be pulled forward, he folded against the older mans shoulder uncomfortably, his whole little body going tense. But it wasn't long until he felt a small chin rest upon his shoulder, it was a new feeling, but one who could get used to.

He stood completely still as the writer moved his wings with a gentle hand, Chuck looked over at the boys damp head when he felt his breath hitch and his heart constricted when it occurred to him that the angel child expected some sort of pain, sighing softly through his nose he returned to what he had been looking for.

Ah, there it was, he had heard about it on the news a while back but had never actually seen anybody who used the device.

It didn't surprise him that the boy's previous owner would.

A small box like device implanted on the base of the wings, between the shoulder blades, designed to keep the wings present but withhold all function of the appendages. They had been recalled for malfunction, the first round, when it would short out and the wings be able to be moved only to have it send a painful shock down the spine and into the wing bones themselves. Seeing as Chuck did not have any wings, he did not know what it actually felt like, he could only assume that it was uncomfortable (to say the least).

And seeing as it was implanted, should he want to have it removed, it would have to be through surgery.

"Does it hurt?"

Michael nodded his small damp head against the side of his neck.

"Well, sadly, I cant take it off completely little guy, but I can tone it down that it can be virtually useless. You'll still feel a bit discomfort, but not zapping jolts of electricity."

Michael nodded again and he did just that, pushing a small button on the side of the device. It beeped slowly and the glowing light dimmed drastically. The little wings flexed, Michael made a happy sounding chirp at being able to do so painlessly and stepped away from the writer to do so again.

Chuck watched him, grinning at the elation on the child's face, and draped the shirt over his arm.

"I can cut some slits into the back, and we can poke your wings through that way, won't be so cramped."

Michael nodded, smiling happily at the new feeling of semi-freedom. Standing back up the writer made to turn towards the door, but, he was stopped. The angel child held a small hand out, the one he had been using to tug at the shirt, and stared up at him with wide blue eyes.

"You...You want...?"

He nodded, stepping forward slightly and smiled again at the lack of reprimand for such an action, Chuck stood completely still when he felt the small hand slide into his and little fingers curl around his fingers. Michael stepped up to stand at his side, slightly, and smiled again.

Clearly if the man would let him move his wings he meant no harm.

Chuck squeezed the boys fingers encouragingly, "Okay then," He smiled back down at him, "I have some scissors in the kitchen we can use and some soup I can heat up for you too."

He waited an extra moment to see if the boy would let go of his hand, and when he didn't he gave it another light but meaningful squeeze, smiling again as he walked them from the room.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

He can take care of one.

…

Michael sat next to him silently, dipping his crackers into the warm broth and munching on them. Chuck was torn between watching the child eat and working on his latest bestseller. He was interrupted from his fit of writers block by a small finger pointing at his computer screen.

Chuck looked down to his side where his new little friend sat, Michael looked up at him imploringly as he munched on his cracker.

"You...Do you want me to read it to you?"

The boy nodded, tapping the glass of the screen for emphasis.

"You can...You can understand me?"

Michael made a face as if to show that his question was of the stupid variety as he nodded his head.

Chuck smiled, "Ok then, well," he turned to look at the computer, "In the beginning, He believed it would be a great plan-"

…

A week later with Michael, while they were still working out the kinks, things were actually going pretty swell. He had finally been able to get it through the kids head that he would not be severely punished for something as trivial as dropping a snack on the floor or a cup of juice on the carpet (and it made him hate the general even more for drilling such fear into something so young) after quite a few episodes where Chuck would have to go and fish the kid out from under a piece of furniture or out of the coat closet out by the front door.

Time went on for them peacefully.

Fall had turned to winter, and they had stayed outside until Michael's lips had started taking on a purple hue and Chuck finally called it a day seeing as he wasn't going to put his kids life at risk like that (and it had been nearly been a month since he'd started referring to Michael as his kid).

The Writer made a nice roaring fire in the living room fire place, Michael loved to stretch out on the rug in front of it like some over grown kitten, and put a pot of soup to boil on the stove.

Though he wouldn't be what some might call thoroughly prepared to take in someone so young and so needy, it had been a welcome change in his usual (possibly unhealthy) lifestyle.

"Soups done kiddo, you want some crackers?"

He got a small mew from the boy in the living room that he smiled at despite himself. Cradling a steaming bowl vegetable soup in one hand and a small plate of crackers in the other, Chuck made his way through the little doorway between rooms and knelt to set them in front of the child.

"You gotta say it."

Michael looked up at him with that look that any child took up when they deemed something to be of the 'unfair' variety.

He reached for the crackers and whined when they got pulled back again, "Gotta say it!"

There was a pout he earned for his troubles, but Chuck held firm, he'd been reaching Michael how to speak english for the last month and it was very much a two way street.

"Come on kiddo, I know you've been learning this word, it's your favorite snack."

"C...Cr...Cra..Crack...Crackers? Crackers!"

He gifted the tiny boy a plate of his favorite crackers for his troubles. Michael smiled happily as he reached for the salty treat he so desires, munching on it in teeny bites. Chuck smiles, leaning down to set his other package on the floor next to the plate. Its still saddening the way the bright eyes light up even further at the sight of even more food, but Michael's getting better with it.

"Is it yummy?"

Michael nodded happily, munching on his cracker and a spoon full of vegateble soup, and the writer smiled again (something he was doing a lot of recently) and brushed a knuckle under the soft little chin.

"Good."

Standing back up, he turns to return to the kitchen for his own bowl, when he stops in his tracks by a small voice calling out to him.

"Th...Than...Thanks אַבָּא." (father/Aba)

Did he?...Did he just call him?...Chuck had noticed as a young child that he could understand a few more words from the angels language than the other humans could, and so when one refers to him now as אַבָּא he finds it completely mesmerizing and surprisingly _amazing_.

"Your welcome בֵּן." (son)

It felt strange to say out loud, but so _so_ right.

...

As a child himself, Chuck had been terrified of the doctors, anything remotely resembling such a place was enough to make him run and hide for hours.

And he'd lived a pretty nice life.

So why he thought that _Michael_ would be any better was beyond him. Just to get him to the hospital, he'd had to keep the boy's head covered (which was no easy feat) with one of his jackets. Chuck cupped the back of the child's head with his hand when he felt tiny fingers pry into his shoulder, holding him down a bit more forcibly.

The receptionist looked up at him sweetly, her eyes shining about as bright as her smile, it didn't take a genius to figure what it was he had hidden under his favorite green jacket.

"Can I help you?"

Taking a moment to adjust his grip on the squirming child, he stretched over his thin shoulder, "I had an appointment, for my angel, he has a recalled correction device implanted on his back and we had a surgery lined up to have it removed."

She clicked her mouse and tapped on her keyboard for a hot minute, before turning her smile back up at him once again.

"Alrighty, we're all set for you!"

The women made a hand motion for a nurse to come for him, undoubtedly to take Michael in for prep, and Chuck shook his head.

"He's not...He scares easy-."

As if by understanding the aforecalled nurse motioned for him to follow, "Of course, we want this to go as smoothly as it can, you may can bring him on back if that's what'll help."

Hefting the wiggling child up higher in his arms, Chuck followed the man obediantly, and was lead back to a room with a large bed and a bunch of machines. He was handed a gown to put his precious cargo in and the nurse left for him to do so.

He turned to look at the small jacket covered angel, "Now I'm going to set you down, but you can't bolt, okay."

Chuck's tone left no room for argument, and it was on a wisp of a hope that he did as he was told when set down. Michael's head poked out from under the hood of his security jacket and he looked around the room with wide frightened eyes. It took him one go around before he was rushing forward to grasp at his new owners pants. A large hand caressed his head gently, tilting it back to look up at his writer friend.

"Hey hey hey, its okay kiddo, I promised you I wouldn't let anything bad happen, right?"

Michael sniffled almost silently.

" _Right?_ "

"R...Ri...Right..."

He opened the gown, "Can you trust me enough to put this on?"

The angel child looked the gown over carefully and nodded cautiously. Michael allowed the help he offered in removing his shirt and pants, and slipped the gown over his small shoulders. Clothes folded neatly on the side counter, jacket folded over one arm, he smiled slightly as Michael shivered in nothing but his thin little hospital gown.

"Cold?"

Bright blue eyes looked up at him, and he nodded.

Chuck chuckled, knealing down to wrap the jacket around his small shoulders, one hand clutching at his favorite jacket he reached the other up to tug at his shirt.

"What's wrong בנו הקטן?" (Little son)

That little hand tugged on his shirt again.

"You want up?"

His boy nodded and tugged again, reaching down with a smile he hooked his hands under the young ones arms and lifted him back up to his hip. Michael laid his little soft head on his shoulder as a large hand rubbed over his arm softly.

"Get you all warmed up again until the doc comes!"

Rocking his hips slightly, Chuck paced around the room with his little angel tucked safely in his arms.

He was half asleep when the doctor finally came to meet them. Speaking in hushed tones as to not disturb the calmed state of the jumpy angel, he explained the procedure and everything involved.

Hushing the small angel as he leaned down to set him on the soft mattress, he tucked the blankets up under his chin just like he did back home, and not knowing any better at the moment, Michael drifted off to sleep.

It would take a couple hours the doctor had said, and not wanting to leave until he knew everything had worked out well, Chuck was left to walk the halls aimlessly worrying about his angel child.

...

Their meeting had been by accident, he'd walked passed his door and like any other bystander who see two police officers and a Creature Catcher in a room, he stopped to look.

Eyes widened, Chuck's breath caught at the sight of the visibly beaten angel chained to the bed. It looked painful, but he could see the collar covering the bruises on his neck.

"Sir this is a pr-"

"What happened?"

That's not the usual reaction that one gives when being told to leave a private matter, but Chuck was no ordinary man and did not give usual reactions to situations such as this. Terror filled swollen eyes swiveled over to look at him, pleading.

"Abandoned was caught stealing from the local market."

He tilted his head, that didn't make sense.

"Stealing for what?"

A hand pointed to the corner, by God, he looked even younger than Michael!

"The Runt."

The small thing looked up at him from under mud covered arms and his heart about melted, Flexing his fingers by some unknown instinct, the little runt of a thing tilted his head only slightly, a change in his previous behavior.

"Where will they go?"

"Shelter for the Runt and Pound for the Abandoned."

"I'll take them."

Chuck was jumping before he even knew what he was doing. He did not intend to bring his little angel child in for surgery and return home with two more. The Creature Catcher looked at him in disbeleif as if to call his bluff.

But he stood by his word, even if it was crazy.

"Really..?"

"Yes, give me the paperwork right now and I'll sign it. I'll _take them_."

Seeing as it was less paperwork for them to just hand them over, the Catcher dug through his bag and produced a simple adoption packet.

"Both?"

"Of course."

And another. Borrowing the pen from the young police officer at his side he signed the appropriate lines and initialed the right blocks, handing both back to the respectful people.

He made a sharp motion for the collar around the injured ones neck and the chains binding him to the bed.

"Remove them, I will deal with the correction for this incident."

They were more than happy to do as he requested, less work for them. Waiting for the door to click shut behind the second officer, Chuck turned to the small thing in the corner.

"Come here מלאך קטן." (little angel)

Hearing his language spoken, tension rolled from the tiny little shoulders and he pushed himself up carefully to tiptoe across the cool tile floors, and he squeaked as he was swiftly lifted from the floor and onto the bed next to his partner in crime.

"You two look absolutely disgusting, did you have a home before this?"

The older one looked at the younger for help, and he shook his head at the question. It as an odd type of sadness that an older would look for a younger for support. Sighing, Chuck ran a hand down his face and up through his hair.

He'd come with one little angel and now he was leaving with three.

"Well you most certainly do now."

Once again the elder looked for his younger counterpart for clearity. He either was a mute or had been taught rather well not to speak. The babe smiled at the other, nodding his head slowly, he seemingly understood and he too smiled.

"Do you two have names? I can't very well call you Abandoned and Runt, can I?"

A small meek voice answered him, and Chuck was amazed to see that it was the younger and not the older.

"How...How we know we trust you?"

Well, an angel who could speak english too, would wonders never cease?

"How about this, I'll tell you mine and then you tell me yours?"

They exchanged looks, clearly conversing over the proposal in their minds, before turning back and nodding.

He smiled as openly as he could, "I'm Chuck Shurley, I'm a writer and am waiting for my little guy to get out of surgery where he's getting his correction device removed."

The elders eyes widened in a sort of shock, he assumed, and he leaned forward. His voice was a whisper, even more broken then the youngers, and Chuck was forced to swallow at the sound.

"Zap...No...Gone..."

He nodded, "No more, now, I've stuck to my end of the deal."

"Samandriel, young, Me Gadreel."

There had only been a few angels he had ever met that could speak english and so it mystified him that these clearly neglected maltreated pair knew as much as they did. Chuck knelt before them, his smile still just as soft and cool as before.

"Well, Gadreel, Samandriel, you two will be coming to stay with me. Is that okay?"

"Nice?"

"I've been told I'm pretty good."

They smiled at him shyly, but brightly. Chuckling to himself, the writer clapped his hands in business, taking on a mock stern expression.

"Now, I did give my word that I would dish out the consequences for your behavior."

Gadreel whimpered, and he tugged on his leg playfully, having Michael had helped him in many ways.

Breaking the ice was one of them.

"I'm going to see about getting _you_ a bath", he turned to the other, "And while he's getting all nice and clean again, why don't we go down to the cafeteria and see what's good down there?"

Samandriel looked happy at the aspect of getting food, but his smile dropped at the thought of leaving his friend behind.

"Gaddy food too?"

Chuck smiled warmly, "Well, of course, you silly."

That enticed a smile from the littlest one again and he nodded happily. Chuck stood, holding out his hands expectantly, Samandriel looked up at him in confusion as he lifted his arms questioningly. He let out a small noise as he was lifted from the bed again and settled on his new owners hip.

Chuck caught the attention of a passing nurse, "Is there anyway I could get him cleaned up?"

She smiled, nodding as she peered around at the small thing in the bed. Gadreel looked up at her shyly, and upon noticing her returned gaze, immediately looked down again.

"Of course sir."

...

It had taken him a hot minute to convince Gadreel that they would indeed be returning as he made his leave with little Samandriel, who promised to bring back all varieties of goodies for his older friend.

Cobalt eyes widened at the shelves lined with food.

Fruits, veggies, sandwiches, pastas, soups, sweets.

Anything and everything.

"See anything you want?"

The little one looked up at him in complete unbounded joy. A finger pointed out at what he wished for; Grapes, Chicken tenders with fries, and a chocolate chip cookie.

"How about a nice cup of apple juice to wash all this yummy stuff down?"

Samandriel nodded, his eyes never leaving his plate full of goodies. Chuck paid for the plate of food and his drink, walking them all over to an empty table. Setting the plate down first, and then the juice, he leaned over to plop the boy down in the chair.

He sat next to him.

Samandriel, although excited by the amount of food he had in front of him, made no actual moves to grab any of it.

"It's all yours little guy, promise, you won't be in trouble for eating it."

With that being said, a tentative hand reached up for a chicken finger and snatched it up. Samandriel took a bite as if to test the waters and when he got no reprimand for it, he took another, bigger bite. He made a happy sound at the food filling his small tummy. He ate the chicken tenders quickly, followed by the fries one after the other, the tiny hand reached for the cup and he struggled to grab it as it was a bit farther out of his reach. Chuck looked up from his paper and coffee, chuckling to himself as he reached for the plastic juice cup, handing it down to the child.

"Slow down kiddo, your going to give yourself a belly ache if you inhale your food that fast!"

Samandriel spared him a look of acknowledgement as he plopped a grape into his mouth and then another. Shaking his head slightly, fondly, Chuck turned his attention back to the paper he'd picked up from the table next to theirs.

A few minutes later he looked back up when a slight whine made its way to his ear, his eyebrows met in confusion before he realized who it was, and he smiled.

"I did warn you."

Samandriel made another whining sound and rubbed at his belly, his plate clean and cup empty. Chuck quirked an eye brow and sat back, pulling the angel into his lap and looking down at him he smiled comfortingly.

"Want me to...Want me to rub your tummy?...It always helps my little guy when its sore."

Michael, he hoped the procedure was going fine and snuck a glance at the clock to see what time it was.

He was worrying for the little guy.

Chuck was torn from his thoughts as small fingers tugged at his fingers, pulling his hand up to cover the little guys belly it was so small, the man chuckled lightly and rubbed the smooth skin lightly.

"How about we get something for your pal and head on back up?"

Samandriel nodded, not making any sort of sound as he was lifted to be held in a sort of cradle, a hand rubbing his belly still. He was comforted by the slight swaying in his walking motions. Chuck ordered a bowl of vegetable soup and a ham/cheese sandwich to go. A juice box to wash it all down, he paid again, gathered the bag loops around his wrist and turned to make his way to the elevators.

Glancing down to check on the quiet little guy he held, Chuck was pleasantly surprised to see him falling asleep.

...

Gadreel was cleaned when he got back, revealing his skin to be of a pale color and a head of dark hazelnut hair, he was tucked back into some clean blankets where a white plain tshirt that fit his form like a dress.

He looked up excitedly at the sound of his door opening, away from the cartoons he'd been tuned into, and his little brows furrowed at the unconcious sight of his friend. Chuck followed his gaze and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, he's just sleeping, his belly's full."

Gadreel watched silently as his little friend was set down next to him, still sleeping soundly, he curled into his best friend and hummed happily. Chuck tucked the blanket around him too, setting the bag of goodies on the hospital table above the bed.

"I got you some goodies too."

Large blue eyes gazed up at him in shock.

"What? I can't very well let one of my angels go hungry."

Gadreel dug through the bag and squealed in excitement. A sandwhich and soup! And juice!

A knock at the door interrupted them.

...

 **So what do you think so far? Should I continue? How did Michael's surgery go? Will Gadreel talk to Chuck? Will Samandriel warm up to him more still? Who else might he come to have charge over? Gabriel? Lucifer? Raphael? Will the Winchesters make an appearance? What will they be? Hunters? Creature Catchers? Do you want to know more?**


End file.
